


A Day in the Life

by dark_fantasy



Series: Bound [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, BDSM, Chastity Device, Dark fic, Enemas, Gags, Impact Play, Kidnapping, M/M, Pet Play, Restraints, Torture, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 15:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11421141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_fantasy/pseuds/dark_fantasy
Summary: Stiles isn't sure how many days it has been since Peter kidnapped him, but he's spent every one of them restrained and in pain. This is just another day of his suffering until Peter decides he needs a punishment and everything gets a whole lot worse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Foolish Trust but can stand alone. It's a dark fic, full of torture, pain, rape, and without a sign of a happy ending. The series might have a happy ending (if I get that far writing it) but this story won't. 
> 
> Please check the tags carefully before reading. More tags may be added as the story progresses.

The sleeping gag was the least painful. It had a narrow tube that he could breathe through even when his nostrils were blocked and it didn't go far enough down his throat to trigger his gag reflex. It was the gag Stiles was only ever allowed to wear at night and on those occasions he stood a chance of getting some sleep, depending on whatever else had been done to him. 

Stiles fantasised about a proper night's sleep in a soft bed. On the nights when his position and restraints kept him too uncomfortable to drift off even for a few minutes, he lost himself to memories of pillows and mattresses. He imagined what it would be like to be allowed to sleep, just for one night, without pain. He didn't know how many nights he'd spent at Peter's cabin, but there hadn't been a one without pain to some degree or another. 

The previous night hadn't been too bad. He'd been in the dog cage, curled up on his side, with only the sleeping gag in his mouth and the small tail plug in his ass. He wore his usual mitts and his legs were bound calf to thigh, which meant he sometimes woke from whatever snatches of sleep he managed because his body had tried to straighten his legs in his sleep and he'd been unable to do so. His ass ached from yesterday's beating, but he hadn't annoyed Peter recently so the beating had been a mild one in comparison to the ones Peter dealt out in punishment. The result was just a low-grade pain that had become Stiles' standard for the best he could get. 

Stiles had probably managed five or six hours of sleep last night, taking the edge of the extreme exhaustion that had set in. Stiles supposed Peter did this on purpose, letting him have a night of sleep once in a while to keep the sleep deprivation from breaking him completely. Whatever the reason, Stiles was awake now, watching the sky grow brighter outside the window. 

He hoped Peter woke soon. Usually, Stiles wanted Peter asleep and away from him, but he needed to pee and if he made a mess of the kitchen floor again, he knew the punishment would be severe, regardless of whether the mess was in any way his fault. Stiles heard movement from the cabin's bedroom and he hoped. He clenched his legs together and tried to ignore the burning need in his bladder. The walls were narrow, so he could the flush of the toilet followed by water running and the sound was almost enough to send him over the edge. 

It seemed to take Peter forever to leave the bedroom and coming into the combined kitchen and living area that formed the other half of the cabin. He walked slowly over to the cage and Stiles looked up at him with pleading eyes. 

"You need something, pet?" Peter asked. Stiles nodded. He brought a mitted fist to the front of his chastity belt to try and get his point across. 

"You want to cum?" Peter asked, teasing. Stiles shook his head. He wanted to cum. He hadn't had an orgasm in more days than he could count, but that wasn't the most pressing need. 

"Oh?" Peter was amused. "You don't need to come? That's good to know." 

Stiles tapped his fist against his chastity belt again, staring up at Peter through the bars of the cage. He knew that Peter knew what he was trying to say. He hated Peter as much for pretending not to as he hated him for everything else about this situation. 

"You need to pee?" Peter asked, and Stiles nodded, frantically. Peter hmmed to himself, seeming to consider this carefully. Stiles could have cried in frustration. He thought of all the insults he would love to throw in Peter's direction if he weren't scared of what the punishment would be. 

"I suppose," Peter said at last. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a key unlocking the cage. One side of it lifted up easily for Peter, but Stiles didn't dare leave the cage yet. Not until Peter said, "Go to the bathroom then. Don't make a mess on the carpet on the way." 

Stiles crawled out of the cage on mitted fists and bound knees. He crossed the tiles of the kitchen area and then the soft carpet of the living area, which was easier on his knees, crawling through the bedroom and into the bathroom that was attached to it. Peter didn't need to tow him around with a leash anymore, unless the mood took him. It wasn't like Stiles could unlock the front door or open a window with his fists wrapped in the leather mitts that made his hands useless. 

In the bathroom, Stiles waited on his knees, the pain in his bladder seeming even worse now that he could see the shower right there. He wondered if Peter were trying to make him fail on purpose, just to give him an excuse for a punishment. Not that Peter needed an excuse to hurt him. At last, Peter sauntered into the bathroom, carrying a metal yoke and lengths of chain. He crouched in front of Stiles to undo the leather collar around his neck and the gag in his mouth. Stiles worked his jaw in the temporary freedom but he didn't say anything. He knew all too well how uncomfortable the punishment gag got after even a minute and Peter would make him wear it for at least a day if he spoke out of turn. 

Peter fastened the metal yoke around his neck and closed the cuffs around Stiles' wrists, holding his hands about a foot each side of his neck. Only then, when Stiles' hands were safely secured so he couldn't touch anything with them, did Peter remove the mitts. Peter slid loops of chain around each of Stiles' ankles and clipped the other ends to a ring at the back of his chastity belt's waist band, removing any possibility of Stiles straightening his legs enough to stand, and then he unfastened the straps that forced Stiles to crawl everywhere. Finally, Peter pulled the butt plug out, its black surface still smeared with yesterday's cum. If Stiles stayed here too long, that cum would dribble out his asshole and make a mess and Peter would use that as a reason for punishment too. 

"Go," Peter said, jerking his head towards the shower. 

Stiles shuffled forward on his knees, unable to stand, unable to even crawl with his hands in the yoke. Peter didn't want the leather restraints to get soaked in the shower or stained with urine, so Stiles had to face this indignity each morning. He made it over the lip at the edge of the shower and got inside before his bladder couldn't take it anymore. A strong spray of urine shot out of the hole at the bottom of his chastity belt, spraying Stiles' legs and the floor of the shower. 

Peter made a comment about how messy pets could be and took hold of the shower head, turning on the water to spray Stiles down. Peter was thorough about cleaning him, shampooing his hair and soaping his skin, even shifting the restraints and chains to wash beneath them. The water was even a tolerable temperature, a lukewarm spray, because Peter was the one to scrub him down. This was better than the punishment when Stiles made a mess, which was to be taken out onto the front deck of the cabin and sprayed down with a power hose of icy water. The last time Stiles had earned that punishment, the ground had still had frost on it, and he'd wondered if he would die of exposure before Peter allowed him back inside. He'd almost hoped for it. 

Today though, he got the indoor shower and Peter's thorough cleaning. When it was done, Peter slid the shower head back into its place and retrieved the enema kit. Stiles knelt up as far as the chains would allow and lent forward until his forehead rested on the cool tiles, allowing Peter easy access to his rear. Peter slid the nozzle inside, hooked up to a rubber tube and the large bag that would soon be filling Stiles' insides. This happened every day, since Peter liked his pets clean, and Stiles was used to the experience by now. He waited for Peter to attach the bag of liquid to the hose and start the flow, then he sank back down onto his heels. 

Peter wandered back to the kitchen to make breakfast and left Stiles kneeling in the shower, enema fluid pouring into his ass, waiting for the cramps to start.


	2. Chapter 2

Once the enema was expelled and Stiles had been hosed down again, Peter brought out today's plug. This one was a large one, by the standard Stiles was used to, though he knew it was possible to get larger ones, and he was afraid of the day Peter would do just that. This one was about three and a half, maybe four inches wide at its widest point, shaped so that it remained fat for most of its length. It was also, Stiles knew, a vibrating plug that could be activated remotely. 

Stiles knelt up and leaned forward again, allowing Peter to lube and stretch his asshole. The plug he'd worn overnight had been significantly smaller, so Stiles needed the stretch for this one to fit. Peter was always careful about properly stretching him, not wanting to tear his asshole and do damage that might prevent him from having sex with him whenever he felt like. It seemed to take forever with Peter playing his fingers around inside Stiles, toying with his prostate and making him groan as his cock tried to swell inside its chastity. He was taunting Stiles, reminding him that every part of anatomy was under Peter's control. 

When he was done, Peter slid the plug home, stuffing Stiles full. Then Peter reached for the chain that hung between Stiles' pierced nipples and gave a little tug, just enough for a tiny burst of pain in his chest. 

"Come, pet," Peter said, and so Stiles shuffled awkwardly from the shower. 

Stiles expected Peter to put him back in his pet restraints there in the bathroom and then make him crawl to the kitchen and make him suck him off while Peter ate breakfast. That was how their mornings usually went and if Stiles was deemed satisfactory at the blowjob, he would be allowed to eat breakfast himself. But Peter just said, "Come, pet," and walked out to the bedroom, leaving Stiles to shuffle awkwardly after him. 

In the bedroom, Peter was getting items out of his toy box. Stiles knelt, waiting, heart racing with fear at what might come next. He didn't like unexpected. Unexpected usually hurt. 

Peter started with the ring gag, which was common enough, since Peter liked to have Stiles' mouth available to him when his ass was plugged up. Next came a spreader bar. Peter loosened the chains around Stiles' ankles and forced his legs apart, strapping the bar into place. What would have been a manageable distance if he were standing was a painful stretch in his kneeling position but Stiles didn't dare make a noise of complaint into his gag. Next, to Stiles' astonishment, Peter took out a key and unlocked the back of Stiles' chastity belt. It so rarely came off except for his monthly cleaning that Stiles almost couldn't comprehend it happening now. 

Peter left the yoke in place and ordered, "Lie down on the bed." 

Stiles got his feet under him and wobbled into a standing position, something as rare as the removal of chastity. He made his lurching steps, hindered by the spreader bar, and then collapsed forward onto the bed, shuffling himself with elbows and knees into its centre. 

"On your back," Peter ordered. Stiles managed, with some difficulty, to flip himself over, wishing that Peter had said that part sooner. He was probably enjoying watching Stiles struggle. Stiles was breathing hard by the time he was lying on his back in the middle of the bed and only then did he notice that Peter was naked. Peter sat down on the edge of the bed and teased his fingers up and down Stiles' cock, stirring it into hardness. After so long since his last orgasm, it wasn't difficult. 

"I'm glad," Peter said, "that you said you didn't need to cum. That means I get to enjoy you without the danger of you doing anything foolish." Those fingers stroked gently over Stiles' skin and he thought that just the tiniest hint of pressure would send him into a glorious orgasm. 

Peter seemed to read his mind. He continued, "It would be very foolish indeed if you were to cum without permission. I want to enjoy every part of you and if you ruin it by being a messy pet, I will have to punish you. Do you understand, pet?" 

Stiles nodded. He understood. He wasn't allowed to cum, despite Peter's fingers, despite the fact that Peter was smirking at him as though he knew Stiles was likely to fail this test. His pressed a switch on the remote and set the plug in Stiles' ass vibrating, buzzing with stimulation against his prostate and Stiles could have cried. Failure was so close and they both knew it. 

Peter moved fully onto the bed now, sitting astride Stiles. He reached behind himself to part his ass cheeks and then slid down over Stiles' erection. Stiles cried out around his gag and fought to hold himself back from the edge of climax. Peter's ass was wet and gloriously tight, a heavenly sensation after the cold and unrelenting metal of the chastity device. Stiles could almost believe it would be worth it to give in to this, but he closed his eyes and tried to picture the punishment he knew would come. He thought about pain and whips and anything except Peter riding him hard, the warm body wrapped around his aching cock. Stiles screamed into his gag as Peter panted above him. 

Stiles was so close. His body craved this so much. It would be so easy to give in. But he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let Peter win. 

Then Peter was cumming, wet splatters hitting Stiles' chest, and Peter's ass clenching in the moments of orgasm. It was too much and Stiles' control slipped. 

Stiles screamed again, his body shaking with the force of the orgasm he'd been denied so long. He toppled into the abyss. 

For one tiny, wonderful instant, he felt the release of his body, and he soaked in the pleasure of it. The satisfaction of it filled his body, but then the terrible reality came crashing into his mind. 

He opened his eyes and stared up at Peter's impassive face.


	3. Chapter 3

"I didn't give you permission, pet," Peter said. "I warned you and now there will be consequences. But first, I don't want your disgusting cum in me. Clean it up." 

He slid up and off Stiles' flagging erection and moved up the bed until he could lower his ass over Stiles' face. The position made it difficult to breathe, so Stiles set to work as quickly as possible, working his tongue out through the ring of the gag and into Peter's asshole, licking up whatever he could reach. He tried not to think about what he was doing, tried not to think about whatever punishment Peter might have in mind. He tried not to think at all. He licked up his sticky cum as it trickled out. He licked whatever else his tongue met and tried his best to ignore the taste, knowing that Peter didn't bother with enemas on himself. 

At last, Peter was satisfied and he stood from the bed. Stiles gasped in clean air desperately but knew that this was just the start. He already knew it wasn't going to be good, but his fears were confirmed when Peter picked up the inflatable gag, the one that could stuff Stiles' mouth so full barely a sound could escape, and said, "You're going to need this or you'll make my ears bleed." 

He removed the ring gag and fitted this one in its place, squeezing to inflate the thing until it was forcing Stiles' mouth wide, pressing his tongue flat, and squashing against his cheeks. Peter didn't stop until it felt like one more squeeze would dislocate Stiles' jaw. Peter then picked up the chastity belt again, along with a small jar. 

"It seems you can't be trusted without chastity," Peter said, "and I'll give you something to remind you that your belt is normally so pleasant." 

He opened the jar and scooped out a generous quantity of its contents onto his fingers. He started rubbing it on Stiles' cock. For a moment, Stiles just felt the slightly damp sensation of something because rubbed against his skin, but a second later there was a warm tingling. Then Stiles was screaming. It felt like his cock was on fire as Peter rubbed the paste into his skin, the burning like a brand as Peter worked it into the sensitive head. Peter moved on to Stiles' balls, coating them just as carefully, while Stiles sobbed and screamed into the gag. Just when Stiles thought it wasn't possible for the burning to get any worse, Peter ran his finger over the slit of Stiles penis and pushed some of the paste inside. 

Stiles was sure his genitals must be on fire, must be burning beyond all recognition, but they looked much the same as ever except for a slight red tint from the colour of the paste. Once Peter seemed satisfied, he picked up the chastity belt and slid it into place. The burning paste was trapped against Stiles' skin and he wouldn't be able to rub it off or wash it away even if he wasn't bound. All he could do was thrash on the bed and scream his muffled, useless screams. Peter reached under Stiles' body and clicked the waistband of the chastity belt locked, clicking the chains into place across his ass. 

Peter left Stiles there for a few minutes so he could wash his hands and get dressed, but Stiles couldn't enjoy what should have been a reprieve because the pain was constant. He was almost looking forward for the distraction of more attention when Peter returned because at least Peter doing other things would stop him focusing all his thoughts on the burning at his groin. Peter flipped Stiles over onto his front. Stiles writhed, as though he could somehow rub his cock clean against the covers, but there was no chance of that, not with the smooth metal of the chastity belt in the way. He sobbed into the pillow. He felt Peter's hands at his ass and was afraid that he was going to experience another dose of this from this side, but Peter just touched a switch at the base of the butt plug to wake it to a low vibration. 

Stiles was so distracted by the pain in his groin that he barely noticed the other restraints go on. Peter fastened the mitts into their customary place and strapped Stiles' calves to thighs, removing the spreader bar and yolk as he did so. He fastened a collar around Stiles' neck, but clipped the leash to the chain between his nipples, rather than to the collar's ring. 

"Get down," Peter ordered. "Pets aren't allowed on the furniture." 

Stiles slithered down from the bed and then followed the tug of the leash and crawled after Peter into the kitchen. Each movement seemed to make his chastity belt dig into his sensitive flesh, which made the pain worse. 

"First breakfast," Peter said, "then we'll start your punishment." 

Start? So the fact that Stiles' most sensitive area felt like it was on fire wasn't even considered part of the punishment? Stiles gave a whimper that was swallowed by his gag. 

It was obvious that Stiles wasn't going to get breakfast today, since Peter hadn't brought the ring gag with them, but Stiles would be made to stay here, smelling the food that Peter cooked for himself. Peter got out some eggs and cracked them into a pan, while Stiles stayed on all fours beside the stove, knees pressing against the hard tiles. There would be no knee pads today to soften things. Peter stirred the eggs and made toast and poured juice, and a little trickle of drool dribble out from around Stiles' gag because he couldn't swallow it down properly. Peter glanced down and noticed. 

"Stop making a mess of my floor," Peter said, taking the spoon out from the eggs and bringing it down in a hard smack against Stiles' ass. The spoon was hot, but didn't burn like the paste had, though it left a sticky mark against his skin. Peter returned to scrambling his eggs, but there wasn't anything Stiles could do about the drool. He was hungry and that smell was enticing. Stiles' stomach growled because his body didn't understand why it couldn't have that. 

Peter finished making the breakfast and carried his plate and glass over to the table and Stiles crawled after him. Peter made himself comfortable and then looked down at Stiles. 

"I don't think you want to risk making your punishment worse," he said, "so I'm sure you can behave if I take this off." He released some air from the gag and unfastened it, sliding the rubber out of Stiles' mouth. Stiles swallowed down his drool and moved his jaw quickly while he had the chance. 

"Take your place," Peter ordered, pulling his chair in and starting on his breakfast. Stiles crawled under the table and braced his mitted fists against the chair so he could kneel up and bring his mouth to Peter's fly. He'd practiced this enough now that he could undo the zipper with his teeth. Peter wasn't wearing underwear, so Stiles could use his lips to use Peter's cock out, careful not to let the skin brush against the rough teeth of the zipper. 

Stiles swallowed Peter down as deeply as he could manage from this ankle, working with lips and tongue, sucking and bobbing his head, careful of his teeth. Peter had cum only recently, but he was a werewolf and that meant a quick recovery time. He was hard in moments and then Stiles was pouring all his effort into making this the best blowjob he'd ever done. He wanted to try and appease Peter, to earn some mercy. 

When Peter came, Stiles swallowed everything and then remained kneeling, mouth around the flagging cock. He wanted to writhe and fidget, to react to the burning that hadn't diminished, but he focused on the cock in his mouth, on remaining still and letting Peter finish his breakfast. At last, Peter set aside his knife and fork with a clatter of metal against the plate. 

"Not bad," Peter said. "I suppose I should allow you some breakfast. You will need your strength today. At the very least, you deserve a drink." 

Stiles expect Peter to push him away and fetch whatever he was allowed to eat and drink this morning, but Peter put his hand around the back of Stiles' head, petting at his hair. A moment later, a stream of hot, sour liquid struck the back of Stiles' throat. Stiles wanted to pull away, wanted to vomit, but Peter's hand tightened in his hair, holding him in place. Stiles swallowed quickly to avoid choking, wrapping his lips tightly around Peter's cock so none of the urine escape. 

At last, the pissing stopped and Peter pushed Stiles away. Stiles knelt beneath the table, gasping for breath as his stomach heaved. 

"If you vomit up my generous gift," Peter said, "your punishment will last a week." 

Stiles managed to keep the piss down. He felt like it was sloshing inside him. Peter went to a cupboard and took out a can, pouring the contents into the dog bowl Stiles ate his meals from. It was only when Peter set the bowl on the floor that Stiles realised what Peter expected him to eat. Dog food. Until now, for all his talk of pets and making Stiles eat from a bowl on the floor, Peter had always let him eat human food. That pile of meat lumps in jelly was intended for a dog. 

Stiles weighed his options, but only for a moment. If he refused to eat it, he knew that Peter wouldn't let him eat anything else. He'd make the punishment worse and then he'd probably keep Stiles eating dog food for the rest of time to make him regret the initial refusal. If Stiles ate it, Peter might keep this as something used only on punishment days. There was still a chance that Stiles might get to eat human food most of the time. 

So Stiles crawled over to the bowl and lowered himself down, picking up the lumps of meat with his teeth. They didn't take much chewing, so he was able to swallow them down quickly, trying not to think about the taste or the humiliation, not dwelling on what he was putting in his mouth. It was meat, after all. He ate steak and stew and sausages. This was just a slightly slimy stew. 

"So eager," Peter said. "If I'd known you would be so enthusiastic, I would have switched to this sooner." 

Stiles swallowed down all the words he wanted to say. Peter knew he hated this. Peter knew and he was mocking him for trying to get it over with, but if Stiles tried to call him on it, then he would face the punishment gag as well as whatever else Peter had planned. So Stiles swallowed his pride along with the disgusting dog food. 

"All of it," Peter said, when Stiles thought he'd finished. "You'll need your strength." So Stiles licked the bowl clean of every last scrap of meat and jelly. 

Stiles wanted water desperately, wanted to wash the taste away. But his mouth was still filled with the dog food's vile aftertaste when Peter fitted the gag again and inflated it to its capacity. 

"Now," Peter said, "it's time for your punishment."


	4. Chapter 4

The bench was one Peter had commissioned specifically for Stiles' measurements and usual restraints. Halfway up one pair of legs were little wooden platforms that Stiles' bound knees could rest on and the leg straps were long enough to accommodate the way his legs were already bound. There were a couple of hooks on the sides in just the right position for Peter to loop the nipple chain through, meaning that if Stiles movement more than a couple of millimetres, he would be pulling painfully on his nipple piercings. There were a couple of upright posts at the head end with a strap between them, so Peter could force Stiles' head back to an uncomfortable stretch and trap it in place with a strap around the forehead. Finally, Stiles' arms were strapped to the front legs, rendering him completely immobile and utterly helpless. 

Peter adjusted the vibrations of the butt plug to a higher setting and Stiles' cock tried to stir in response, causing him to scream into the gag. Then Peter started the beating. 

He began simply enough with a series of bare-handed smacks against Stiles' ass, often striking the plug to make it thrust into him and bring about yet more torture from his trapped and burning cock. Stiles' ass was still bruised and sore from yesterday, so it took very little time for him to be screaming at every blow, his ass burning as much as his groin from the repeated impacts and his nipples burning from the movements he couldn't prevent each time the hand came down, but Peter kept going, until Stiles' screams diminished to helpless sobs. Only then did Peter stop hitting, rubbing his hand over the tender flesh and squeezing to elicit more sobs. 

But Peter wasn't done. He took up the flogger next and laid stripes of pain across Stiles' back, hitting him over and over until Stiles was sure there wasn't any part of his back that hadn't been hit at least a dozen times. Sting followed sting, pain adding to pain and then multiplying it.

When Peter put the flogger down, Stiles hoped this might be over for now, but he didn't really believe it. Peter picked up a flat stick like a wooden ruler and came round to the front of the bench. He brought it down with a hard swing against Stiles' right arm. The edges of the stick seemed to cut into his flesh. Stiles wanted to lower his head to see if it had broken skin, but Peter just swung the stick four more times over the right arm, and then matched it with five strikes to the left arm. 

Peter didn't say anything. He just walked round the bench again, dragging the end of the stick over the sore and tender skin of Stiles' back. Then he swung the stick again. Stiles felt a fresh burst of pain on the sole of his right foot. Peter had never beaten his feet before, but now he swung the stick until Stiles was screaming all over again, his eyes streaming with tears. At least Stiles knew he wasn't likely to walk on those battered soles any time soon. He had never thought he would be grateful for crawling. 

Peter put the stick away and then seemed to survey Stiles' pain, running his fingers over skinned he'd left bruised and burning, kneading flesh that throbbed already, tracing the lines he'd marked into Stiles' back and arms. 

"I feel like I'm leaving part of you out," Peter said. He ran a hand down Stiles' leg. 

He unfastened Stiles from the bench and lifted him down, then proceeded to undo the straps holding Stiles' legs bound. 

"Stand up," Peter ordered. Stiles whimpered in anticipation before he'd even placed his foot on the ground. It felt like he was standing in coals, but he managed to get upright, legs shaking. He gave another little whimper that was muffled by his gag. 

"Go to the back of the couch," Peter said. Stiles limped to obey, each step agony, his feet screaming in protest each time he forced them to bear his weight for the next step. Peter never let him walk. Stiles had longed to be allowed to use his feet properly again and now Peter had given him his wish in this twisted way. It seemed to take forever to reach the couch, but then Peter had him positioned in moments, leaning over the back, his hands on the cushions to support his weight, his legs spread. 

The back of Stiles' legs were now available to Peter and he chose the cane, swishing it through the air a few times so that Stiles would recognise the sound and know what was coming. The strokes fell on Stiles' thighs, some of them with enough force to break skin. He felt the trickles of moisture and wouldn't have been surprised if he had no skin left by the time it was all over. Peter decorated his calves too with more lines of pain, the sharp sting of impact lingering like someone had placed hot wire against his skin. 

When it was over, Stiles had to stay standing on his trembling legs, while Peter pulled the plug out and fucked him hard against the back of the couch. Peter was done in minutes, and then slid the plug back home. Only then did he allow Stiles to kneel. 

Stiles slid down to the floor, grateful to take the weight off his poor feet only to recognise what a mistake gratitude was when the cane marks pressed together. Peter bound his legs as usual, forcing battered flesh to press against battered flesh, and Stiles tried to do a catalogue of his body to see if there was any part of him that didn't hurt. He couldn't find any. Even his head ached from all the crying.


	5. Chapter 5

While Peter had lunch, he tortured Stiles with electric shocks to a dog collar with a remote control, occasionally interspersing it with bursts of vibration through the butt plug. Stiles was in too much pain everywhere else for the latter to have much effect. It was obviously supposed to cause an erection reaction and trigger the pain in his groin, but it was hard to get an erection when every part of his body was in agony already. Stiles hoped Peter didn't realise that though or he might switch to another punishment. Stiles didn't think his body could take much more pain. 

Once he'd finished eating, Peter poured himself another drink and downed it quickly, before asking, "Are you thirsty, pet?" 

Stiles though he knew what was coming, but he nodded anyway because he was thirsty. The pain and tears and not to mention the awful gag making him drool left him feeling dehydrated. He needed liquid. Even if it came in the form of Peter's piss. Stiles didn't complain or hesitate, just let Peter remove the gag and force his dick into Stiles' mouth. The stream of urine was followed by another instruction to suck him off, which Stiles did with as much eagerness as he could muster. 

"Well, pet," Peter said, playing with Stiles' hair and keeping his head in place afterwards, "I've punished your back and your legs and your arms but it was your whole body that misbehaved. What part of you should I punish next?" Stiles hadn't thought there was much of him left to hurt, but Peter smiled and continued, "I suppose your chest and stomach deserve a turn, don't you?" 

Peter pushed Stiles back, away from his cock and looked at him. After a few seconds, he slapped Stiles. 

"I asked you a question, pet. Should I punish your chest and stomach now?" 

"Yes, master," Stiles said, voice croaking and raw. There were no other words he could say. 

"Ask me." 

It was going to happen anyway and saying the words might keep him from enduring the punishment gag. 

"Please punish my chest and stomach, master." 

Peter reached down and tweaked a nipple. "And why do you need to be punished?" 

"I disobeyed and came without permission," Stiles said. 

Peter pinched the other nipple. "You took pleasure in your body, pet. That's unacceptable. Your body exists for my pleasure, not yours. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, master." 

"Say it." 

"I exist for your pleasure, master, not my own." 

"Good, pet. Now I think that's enough talking for you." 

Peter put the gag back into place and then cleared the kitchen table. He lifted Stiles up and dumped him onto the table on his back. Stiles dug his teeth into the gag and let out a strangled cry as the marks from the morning's beating landed hard against the wood. Peter found a length of chain and ran it under the table, cuffing each end to Stile's wrists to keep his arms away from his body. He had more range of movement than he often did, but not enough to shield any part of his body from whatever was to come. 

Peter went to a drawer and then turned back to the table holding a candle and a lighter. He made sure Stiles was watching as he lit the candle. 

"I was always so hesitant about using flame," Peter said, looking at the lit candle. "After everything I've been through, fire always seemed too dangerous, too unpredictable." He moved the candle over Stiles' torso, tilting it slightly. "But really, it's not unpredictable at all. Fire is the most predictable thing in the world. It wants to destroy. It wants to burn." Peter emphasised that last word and tilted the candle a little more, letting a drop of hot wax fall and hit the middle of Stiles' stomach. Peter smiled at the muffled scream. 

"A good pet should understand his master," Peter said. "You should understand what it's like to burn." Another drop of wax. Another scream. "It's not the same really. You couldn't comprehend the full agony of it." Stiles thought his understood agony well enough. "But this should give you a taste." 

Another drop fell searing against Stiles' nipple. 

Peter moved the candle around, always finding somewhere new to drop the wax. After a while, Peter poured a little of the wax into Stiles' navel and used that to hold the candle in place, at a slight angle so that the wax would still drip down onto his stomach. Then Peter started peeling up the hardened wax, not caring that it pulled the fine hairs from Stiles' skin at the same time. He inspected the red marks that the wax had left, and Stiles' tilted his head, straining to see too. Despite the pain, the wax wasn't hot enough to do any real damage it seemed. But that just gave Peter more freedom to play. 

He picked up the candle again and attacked Stiles' nipples, held his arms up and poured wax on the sensitive skin of his armpits, even left drops of it fall on his forehead and cheeks, careful to avoid damaging the gag of course. 

Stiles was aware of time passing in the melting of the candle. It burned down to a stub and then Peter peeled all the wax from Stiles' skin, but it wasn't over yet. Peter took out clothes pegs and clipped them to Stiles' skin. He started with Stiles' nipples and the sensitive skin around them, but then just started sticking them anywhere he could, leaving lines of them down Stiles' sides, clipping them to his earlobes and the bridge of his nose. They bit into skin already sore from the wax and Peter kept adding more and more until the entire packet was empty. 

Then Peter walked away. Stiles was left lying on the table, eyes closed, trying to think of something other than the pain, but feeling every sharp pinch of plastic clips. Peter returned with the ruler-like implement he'd used earlier and then he started slowly and methodically hitting the pegs. 

Some pegs took only one hit, some took two or three, but Peter hit them so that the peg was knocked out of its place and came away from Stiles' skin. Each time though, it felt like the peg was trying to tear Stiles' skin away with it. Peter hit the peg and Stiles moaned in pain, and then Peter hit the next one. Stiles watched the pegs like they were a countdown, seeing each one torn off his body with a fresh burst of pain but then gone to torture him no more. 

Until Peter reached the pegs around the nipples. Peter hit one of the pegs off and sent it clattering onto the table, but then he picked it up and clipped it back where it had been and hit it off again. Stiles sobbed that even his ability to predict the end of his torment had been taken away, as Peter started clipping a few pegs back on and then hitting them off again. Peter seemed to bore of this eventually though, because at last he hit the final peg off and didn't bother putting any back on again. 

Stiles was left sobbing and broken on the table while Peter tidied the clothes pegs away again.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter gave Stiles another drink after the chest punishment and then asked him if he needed to pee. Stiles nodded. He accepted mostly because he knew if he didn't do this now, he might be desperate later at a time when peeing wasn't an option. 

"You're clearly not a housebroken pet," Peter said, "so you should go outside." 

Peter went to the door and unlocked it. He opened it wide and waved Stiles outside. 

It wasn't often Stiles got to go outside. The sight of sky and trees should have been a source of joy, but the air outside was cold, the wind biting. He crawled out onto the front deck, Peter watching him. There was no one in the area to see, just a forest that Stiles couldn't hope to escape through in his current bondage. 

"Go against a tree," Peter ordered, and Stiles crawled to the edge of the deck and then made his way carefully down the steps. The path and the forest floor beyond were rough against his knees. His skin was scratched and cut before he made it to the nearest tree. Then Stiles had to figure out how to do this, since the chastity belt made any sort of aiming difficult, but he managed to position himself with one leg raised and let loose a stream of urine. He couldn't think about how humiliating this was or the fact Peter was watching. He had to just do it, or he wasn't sure when he'd next get a chance to relieve himself. 

His legs got a little splashed, but not too bad, and then he quickly crawled away from the growing puddle. He turned back to Peter, who as smiling at him. 

"I have things to do," Peter said. "You just wait out here like a good pet until I'm ready for you again." 

Peter went back into the cabin and closed the door. 

Stiles couldn't believe this. He was outside. On his own. Peter wasn't watching him. Excitement and hope rose in him for the first time in so long, but as he crawled a few tentative steps, he knew it was useless. How fast could he crawl? How far would he get before Peter came after him? He knew that the answers were not fast or far enough. Peter wouldn't have left him here like this unless there was no chance of Stiles getting away. Especially not now, when every part of him hurt already. Even if Stiles could crawl a mile away from here, Peter was a werewolf and could sniff out his trail. There would be no one nearby who could help him, not that Stiles could call for help with the gag in. 

Peter would find him. And then Peter would punish him. Would the punishment for running away be worse than the punishment for having an orgasm? Probably. Stiles didn't think he could cope with anything worse. 

Peter was taunting him, like always, setting him up for failure. Peter wanted the excuse to torture him. He was probably waiting inside the cabin, listening to Stiles so that he knew when he tried to escape. Peter would hunt him down and drag him back and then it would be worse than ever. 

Stiles knew that he wasn't going to run away. If he could stand, if he had use of his hands, if he wasn't hurting all over, maybe he could have attempted it. But right now, he knew it was hopeless. 

Tears slid from his eyes as he slowly crawled back to the deck of the cabin, where at least the wood wasn't as painful on his knees as the forest floor. Helpless and defeated, Stiles curled up on his side, which was the part of him that hurt least, and shivered. The cold wind blew against his naked skin and all Stiles could do was let it. At least he could feel the wind, the fresh air. He could smell the trees. He could hear birdsong somewhere in the distance. He could close his eyes and lose himself in sounds and smells and experience one last memory of freedom. 

He thought of his dad, a memory Stiles rarely allowed himself to picture because the absence hurt too much. Lying there, giving in to Peter's captivity, Stiles knew he would never see his dad again. His friends, Scott and Lydia and the others, they were all gone too. Lying there in his despair, Stiles said a final farewell inside his mind. This was his life now, with Peter. He hated it but he knew he was never going to escape it.


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles wasn't sure how long he was left on the deck, but it was growing dark and he was icy cold by the time Peter opened the door and told him to come inside. Stiles struggled to move his stiff limbs, but had managed to crawl through into the blessed warmth. 

"Good, pet," Peter said. "I knew you would want to stay with me. I knew you wouldn't try to run away. You understand, don't you, that your place is with me?" 

Stiles nodded. 

"You belong to me, don't you?" 

Stiles nodded again. He felt too defeated to even muster up a glare. He stared at Peter's feet and wished he could drop dead right then because there was no chance his life was ever going to get better from this. 

"This is your life, pet. Now and forever. Now let's warm you up." 

Peter started rubbing his hands vigorously over Stiles' cold flesh, heating it up and getting the circulation going again. It also had the side effect of pressing into every bruise and welt that had been left over the course of the morning. Stiles was giving moans of pain into his gag as Peter thoroughly went over every part of him he could reach. 

Peter clearly wanted to avoid Stiles dying of the cold, because he allowed him some dinner in the form of chicken and vegetable soup that was still steaming as he poured it into the dog bowl. Stiles ate it with some difficulty and no small amount of mess, grateful for the warmth the filled his stomach. At least it wasn't dog food. Stiles hoped this signalled the end of his punishment and that his surrender to Peter's captivity marked the end of today's torture. 

After the meal, Peter took him back to the couch and fucked him roughly on it. Then Peter had Stiles kneel in the middle of the floor and removed the gag. 

"Do you think you have been sufficiently punished?" Peter asked. Stiles wanted to scream that what he'd been through was more punishment than anyone should ever have to go through. 

Instead, he answered, "Only if you think so, master." 

"Good answer, pet. Do you remember why you were punished?" 

The events of that morning seemed so long ago. Stiles tried to remember exactly how Peter had phrased it. 

"I came without your permission, master," Stiles said, "against your orders. I experienced pleasure when my body exists for your pleasure." 

"You will be forgiven for this infraction. Tomorrow, you will do better or I will be forced to punish you again. Do you understand?" 

Stiles understood that Peter was a sick, sadistic bastard who deserved to feel some of his own punishments. 

He said, "Yes, master." 

"I will turn you into a good pet," Peter said. "All we need is a little time and training, and we have all the time in the world, don't we, pet?" 

"Yes, master." 

"Now, it's time to sort out your sleeping arrangements. I have a new toy for you that I've been waiting to try out. What do you say?" 

"Thank you, master." 

"Wait there." 

Peter went to the storage cupboard by the cabin's door and brought out a large box that made a heavy clanking noise when he set it down. He unpacked pieces from it, mostly metal bars, but also a padded leather rectangle and some sort of motor. Stiles remained in position while Peter checked an instruction booklet and fitted the pieces together. It soon started to take shape into a low bench, one that Stiles could be strapped to while on his hands and knees with restraints to hold his head and limbs in place. The motor was to drive a piston on which Peter fitted a thick dildo, while a clamp on the frame held what had to be a vibrator. 

Once Peter was satisfied, he ordered Stiles over to the new toy and soon Stiles' chest was resting on the leather padding while Peter strapped his limbs into place and his head into a painful backwards stretch. Peter fitted the long gag, the one he used when he felt Stiles needed to practice deep-throating, the one that made it difficult to breathe. Then he took careful time lining up the dildo and making sure it was adequately covered in lube. 

"I take good care of you, pet," Peter said. "The dildo has a special tube that can be used to deposit more lube while the machine runs, so there's no chance of it drying out and damaging you. I was assured this machine could run almost indefinitely. Perhaps sometime we'll see how long you can take." 

He set the machine pumping at a steady rhythm, the dildo sliding in and out, in and out, into Stiles' helpless ass. Then he positioned the vibrator so that it was pressed against the smooth metal of the chastity device and started it running. It buzzed for a few seconds and then cut off, but the sensation was enough to reach into the metal and tease Stiles' imprisoned cock. After that brief moment of stillness, it buzzed again. There appeared to be no pattern to it, with buzzing and stillness and buzzing again in unpredictable lengths, but it was enough to make his cock try to grow in the confines of the belt, especially when combined with the stimulation of the dildo in his rear. 

"Goodnight, pet," Peter said with a smile. "Sleep tight." 

He turned and walked to the bedroom, leaving Stiles to endure the endless fucking and the taunting vibrations that tried to elicit a reaction from a penis that was unable to respond. Stiles knew that there wasn't the slightest chance of him getting even a moment's sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this story. The next one in the series will involve going back to the club.


End file.
